


( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Sin ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

by mortysmithh



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortysmithh/pseuds/mortysmithh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is basically a place for me to upload drabbles<br/>Almost all of them are unedited and probably written on a crazed writing spree at 3 in the morning after I have consumed 4 or 8 cans of Monster<br/>Enjoy!!</p><p>[The ratings will go anywhere from G to Explicit so tread cautiously!!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stretches [G]

Rick never says it, not with his words, and he does his best to keep from reacting physically. But the way Morty sprawls out, stretching as his body shakes and the quietest of squeaks is pulled out of him in a choked-off little growl makes him go weak in the heart with how fucking  _cute_ his grandson can be, often without trying.

He's reminded of those gifs he sees while watching over Morty's shoulder, claims he doesn't like that 'stupid bullshit website, Tumblr', but Morty's turned around several times, he's caught Rick with the stupidest little grin on his face, and he makes a mental note to make a sideblog just for kittens and gifs of them stretching.

And one day, he crawls into Rick's lap, just lays across it as Rick huffs and rolls his eyes, continues to work as Morty grins and paws at his thigh, kneading at it. 

But being a little shit is hard work, and eventually he lays still for the next couple of hours, simply enjoying the closeness. And then he's caught by a round of hiccups so strong he nearly falls out of Rick's lap, cheeks tinged pink even as he continues to jerk with hiccups, the deep, full-bodied kind that leave his throat sore for a while after they end.

He gets cramped up, decides to stretch, and sees Rick's cheeks go pink. So he makes a point of it to stretch as many body parts as he can without worsening the cramps and kinks in his limbs, brushing across just underneath Rick's chin with the tips of his fingers, and of course Rick grabs it, makes a point of running his tongue across two of them then fully engulfing them into his mouth.

When he pulls away, Morty's the one with bright red cheeks, and of course Rick gives Morty a shit-eating little grin as he casually wipes Morty's fingers off on his shirt. "N-Now stop acting like a- a-a fucking cat, and let me work. Jesus."


	2. The Scent of Return [T]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the title is I'm tired and feeling bittersweet about RickMorty ;w;

Alcohol. Cigarette smoke. Alien chemicals. The faintest hint of engine oil and Old Spice cologne that he swears he never wears, yet the scent never leaves.

These are the smells of Rick Sanchez’s dirty, stained, once-white labcoat, and these are the smells that comfort Morty (though just barely) through the long years of Rick's absence.

He thinks he would've given up already, given up on ever seeing his grandfather, his lover, his anchor, if not for the fading myriad of odours on the coat the old man had left in his room.

Because Rick Sanchez doesn't let anybody into his room, not into his _bedroom_ , yet it's one of the most familiar rooms in the house to Morty. Because to Rick, Morty isn't some annoying maid or whatever trying to get his dirty clothing out of the whiskey-reeking room, isn't Beth trying to get him to come engage in ‘family activities’ with the others, isn't Jerry being an annoying little shit.

Morty is the one person he'd let past all of his boundaries. Morty is the one, single creature in their entire universe that Rick had explained to, in explicit detail, the story behind each and every one of his countless scars.

Battles, journeys, running away from his shithead, abusive alcoholic parents at the age of 15, how he'd mistaken a Mantis Woman for a Tryxon Chick and paid a dear price in the form of a chunk out of his arm.

Some were more elaborate than others, some memories sharper. Still some were harsher, darker, made Rick's mouth curve downwards into a frown that couldn't ever be deep enough to portray how fucked up it is that he even has those scars to begin with.

And sometimes, if they're both silent, laying in bed and simply admiring each other’s company…

Sometimes, Rick will explain to Morty just how much he loves him.

The flood of memories is strong. Not unwelcome (not entirely), but it makes tears stream down his face all the same, and he has to try so hard not to think of how much longer he'll have to wait before he can hold the Real Rick, _His Rick._ How much longer it'll be before he can catch a whiff of stomach acid and vomit and a little bit of Pine Sap gum, and how much longer until he can taste the bitterness of said gum, and how much longer until he can pull away from a sweet kiss to make fun of Rick for liking such an old people thing.

How much longer until he can stop crying himself to sleep at 3:26 in the morning, in Rick's filthy bed?

And then, strong arms are wrapped around him and his entire body floods with a sense of relief, of belonging. He doesn't have to look up to know that Rick's back, doesn't have to think too hard to convince himself that this isn't yet another desperation-induced hallucination.

Because there's a lot less alcohol and a lot more drool soaking into the back of his hair, but that faint trace of Old Spice is still there, and underneath that…

“R-Rick...you-”

“Sh-Shut up, Morty. I...I-I love you, alright? Th...th-thank you. F-For- for waiting.”

He doesn't know how to feel, what to say, what to think.

And then, he takes a deep breath, sighs it out, flinches slightly at how Rick tenses up (if the old fart thinks he's gonna reject him after so long, he's got another thing coming), then he giggles softly.

Only somewhat brokenly, like he'd been shattering over and over again for so long, but he's finally staring to heal.

“I-I-I...I love y-you, love you too, Rick. I-I always have, I-I do right now...a-and, and I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr's mortysmithh, send me writing prompts/ideas my dudes!! <33


	3. Soft Hands [T]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Morty hold hands and they're really gay okay

The first time they hold hands, Morty doesn’t really think about it. Sure, he’s considered doing it hundreds, perhaps even thousands of times, but he’s never dared to actually act upon his desires. He knows Rick isn’t one for ‘all that sappy shit’, it isn’t what he does, and he’s come to accept it well enough. He knows the man isn’t good with expressing his emotions; hell, it took pinning him up against the side of the still-hot spaceship to make him admit his feelings for Morty, and that ended in Morty getting fucked in the ship hard enough that he couldn’t walk right for the next few weeks. 

Of course he didn’t mind at all; he’d loved every second of it, and he’d realized just how badly he’d wanted to be with Rick. 

But now, their fingers interlaced, he can’t think of a single thing he likes more.

Rick had been taken completely by surprise, obviously, his cheeks tinging a light pink as he stammers out in a voice that’s gruff but filled with underlying amused affection, “A-And just, what- wh-what the fEURGHck do you think  _ you’re _ doing, Morty?” 

He blushes, staring down at the floor of the garage to distract himself from Rick, but it’s difficult to hide his emotions when he’s sitting in the lap of his grandfather, his back comfortably resting against the older’s chest. “U-Uh- um...n-nothing…? I-I, I mean, um...h-hold- holding your hand...why? Sh-Should I stop? I-I’m sorry, I should’ve asked, i-it was stupid of m-” 

And then Rick’s grabbed him by the hips, ripped their hands apart, and suddenly he’s being kissed hard enough that he swears sparks are flying and pure love is swelling his heart until he feels like it’s about to explode. When they break apart, Rick gives him a shit-eating grin, pulling Morty’s head down so that he can press a sweet kiss to the teen’s forehead.

“Hey, hey, c-calm down, I never said you should  _ stop _ , I-I just- I was just makin’ sure you knew what you were doing,” he says, smiling and carefully lacing their fingers together. “L-Like this, right?”

And now that his embarrassment and anxiety have melted away under Rick’s warm, loving gaze, all he can focus on are how soft Rick’s hands are. The other’s fingertips are calloused, and he can feel healed-over blisters in several areas, but his palms, and the backs of his hands are so soft, so cool. The wrinkled skin gives just enough that he can gently squeeze at Rick’s hand, really feel the love behind Rick’s hands, Rick’s grip,  _ Rick _ . 

A soft chuckle comes from Rick as he gazes down at Morty, his eyes- no, his very face filled with love and adoration for his Morty. The one that’d broken through his hard, uncaring outer shell, and the one that drives him lovestruck-crazy in every sense of the word.

“Wh-What, Rick? I-I said- I-I- what is it, d-do I have something on my face?”

Morty’s anxious tones break through his shell, and he laughs again, shaking his head and leaning down to kiss his grandson so lovingly that it feels almost foreign; several decades of loveless fucks in the backs of dark, unlit alleys, of completely romance-less screws in bar bathrooms, countless banging buddies with no semblance of romantic affection during Flesh Curtains afterparties tend to do that to a man. “No, babe, o-of- of course not. I’m just...I-I’m just- I guess I’m just, admiring how cute you look. Y-You really like this uh, th-this whole hand-holding thing, huh? I’d figure as much, y-you sappy lil’ peanut,” he says with an affectionate kiss to the tip of Morty’s nose. 

He blushes bright red, the sight thankfully almost not visible in the dim, shitty lighting of the garage, but Rick catches it all the same, if the gruff chuckle is anything to go by. “I-I’m- I’m not  _ cute _ , Rick!” He pauses for a moment, leaning up to kiss the corner of Rick’s lips. “B-But, you, uh- y-you’re not that- y-you’re pretty cute, too, y’know that?” He smiles, letting his eyes slip shut as he rests his cheek on Rick’s chest and letting out a content little sigh. “I-I love you, Rick...a-always have, always will,” he murmurs.

Rick freezes for a moment, then he lets out a quiet hum of happiness, wrapping his free arm around Morty’s back and squeezing the kid’s hand tight. “And- and I love you too, Morty...always have, a-and I most certainly always will,” he whispers back, his voice still rough but soft with love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr's mortysmithh, send me fic/sin ideas!!

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr's mortysmithh, send me writing prompts/ideas!!


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